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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/26683636">Who’s the Source and Who’s the Sink?</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/vulcunt/pseuds/vulcunt'>vulcunt</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Star Trek, Star Trek: Voyager</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Blow Jobs, Established Relationship, Fluff, M/M, Morning Grumpiness, Morning Kisses, Morning Sex, based on my own experiences as a thermal sink</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-09-27</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-09-27</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-06 03:27:54</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Mature</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>1,703</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/26683636</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/vulcunt/pseuds/vulcunt</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>Tom and Harry are bros, but also boyfriends. Nothing to see here, only happiness.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Harry Kim/Tom Paris</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>5</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>26</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>Who’s the Source and Who’s the Sink?</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Tom liked waking up in Harry’s quarters. It was like a little surprise. An— Oh! Where could I be? On another starship? Did I fall asleep during a diplomatic mission?— sort of deal.</p>
<p>And then Tom would notice the other warm body in the room, bundled up in his own blankets. It was a thing. Harry ran cold and got two of his own blankets. Tom ran hot and usually kicked his cover to the foot of the bed in his sleep. It was a good system, one that Harry had established and Tom had good-naturedly ribbed him for.</p>
<p>“If you’re cold at night, you can just cuddle up to me!”</p>
<p>Harry scoffed. “Yeah, and have a sweaty white man plastered to my back at all hours of the night? No thanks.”</p>
<p>“Aw, don’t you like this sweaty white man though? Don’t you like gettin’ sweaty with me?”</p>
<p>Harry elbowed him, because they were in the middle of a usually high traffic hallway. “You’re disgusting. See if I ever get sweaty with you again.” But he was smiling as he said it. Ah, and a great smile it was too.</p>
<p>Hm, Tom wondered if he could get a smile out of his boyfriend now. He glanced at the chronometer. Probably not. It was 0425 and that meant they both had to be on the bridge in a scarce thirty five minutes. Harry would not appreciate being woken up before 0440. Harry had this morning routine/speed-walk to the bridge combo that was timed to the very last second, and that routine never, ever started a minute before 0440.</p>
<p>Tom, on the other hand, was an early riser. Always had been. What to say, except that he was blessed? An indication of some inherent evil, Harry called it, usually if Tom woke him up before 0440.</p>
<p>Tom carefully rolled out of bed to hop into a quick sonic shower. A hot minute or two in that refreshingly cleansing buzz, and he was out again, any indications of nightly activities gone. Tom quietly snuck around the room, in the dark, because even the lowest setting of light would wake up sleeping beauty. Tom thought the pitch darkness of space was still unnerving sometimes. Harry loved it. “It’s natural. And I love natural, empty, perfect space, with no evil, evil light.” This, too, was sometimes said before 0440. Most things were evil in the hours between 2100 and 0440. Tom once pointed this out. “Spoken like a real evil dude,” was all Harry had to say.</p>
<p>Tom gently sat on the edge of the bed to put his shoes on. He looked over at the bundle of standard extra-warm blankets on the other side of the bed. He would have loved to gone over and slipped a warm hand between those covers, maybe scored a sleepy, warm make out session out of it. But except in verrrry favorable conditions, that kind of mission was a guaranteed failure.</p>
<p>Hm, maybe he could factor in a couple of wins this morning though.</p>
<p>A quick (quiet) scuttle over to the replicator and then back to the bedroom and Tom was willing to try (or weather) his luck.</p>
<p>Tom held the warmed cup of replicated coffee near an opening in the blankets where he could detect a tuft of black hair in the dim light of the stars. Harry only used his replicator rations for morning coffee, and nothing else. It was an essential part of the 20 minute morning routine/speed-walk combo.</p>
<p>Under the covers, Harry shifted. Then stilled. </p>
<p>Tom waited, standing quietly next to the bed, in the dark.</p>
<p>“What time is it?” Harry croaked.</p>
<p>Tom took this opportunity to sit on the edge of the bed, on Harry’s side. One ass-cheek on, one ass-cheek off. He wasn’t about to try his luck and sit full-assed on the edge just to be pushed entirely off the bed. He played smart, not hard.</p>
<p>“No idea.” And he didn’t. He hadn’t looked at the chronometer since before he got into the sonic shower. Plausible deniability.</p>
<p>Harry said nothing before there was a violent burst of movement, Harry twisting around and partially out of his cocoon to glare blearily at the chronometer. Tom wasn’t even entirely sure why Harry had a chronometer when he could just ask the ship’s computer the time at any moment. Just another weird Harry thing. I mean, Tom had a chronometer in his quarters, but that was because he was, to quote Harry, “A big fucking L-seven weenie engineer.”</p>
<p>Tom glanced at the chronometer as well. 0430. Whoops.</p>
<p>Harry twisted violently back, face mostly hidden by blanket except for a furrowed, disbelieving brow. Tom could almost hear the words. You’re dead meat, Paris. But better to play it off optimistically. </p>
<p>He lifted the cup of coffee, not unlike a platitude. </p>
<p>There was a tense moment, but eventually the structure of the cocoon deflated a little. Soon an entire head, shoulders and chest appeared. Bare, nicely enough. But they soon disappeared under the covers again as Harry tugged the blankets to his collarbone, propping himself up against the headboard. Harry took the nicely warm cup of coffee and sipped once, then started swinging it down fairly energetically.</p>
<p>Tom leaned over, just to be a little nearer, really, one hand braced on the other side of Harry. He watched Harry finish his coffee before speaking.</p>
<p>“Good morning to you too, sailor.”</p>
<p>Harry grunted, setting his empty mug on the bedside table. He didn’t move from the headboard, but he stretched his long arms towards Tom. Tom got the message and maneuvered in close to deliver a payload. Ah, not that kind of payload.</p>
<p>Harry hummed as their lips parted. “I seem to have an evil morning gremlin in my quarters, ensign.”</p>
<p>“Hmm, I believe that gremlin brought you your morning coffee, ensign.”</p>
<p>“Right, any particular reason you’re cutting into my precious sleep time, Tom?”</p>
<p>“Just this.” Tom pressed in close again, savouring the bitter coffee flavor in Harry’s mouth and slipping his hands up a sleep-warmed back. Harry looked great in his uniform partially because of what was under his uniform. It was a good thing Tom ran hot. He was sure if he had even tepid hands he wouldn’t be allowed within a meter of Harry in the morning.</p>
<p>Harry moaned, and Tom felt broad hands sweeping over the scratchy material of his uniform, fingers sneaking into his hair. Ah. Maybe it was time to disengage. The Captain ran a tight ship, and probably wouldn’t appreciate her alpha-shift navigator and pilot both being late. It hadn’t ever occurred that they both were late, together, but Tom wasn’t keen to try his luck. Janeway clearly had a favorite of the two of them, and it wasn’t Tom.</p>
<p>Tom tried to draw away, but Harry wasn’t letting go. In fact, they somehow ended up horizontal again, the covers slipping from Harry’s chest and…lower.</p>
<p>Harry usually didn’t sleep in the nude, being the delicate flower he obviously was in terms of temperature, but they really tired themselves out last night. Vigorous…horizontal calisthenics. </p>
<p>“Hm,” Tom hummed, breaking their kiss. “Knock it off, we can’t be late.”</p>
<p>“We won’t be late, we’re a whole ten minutes ahead of schedule,” Harry pointed out before flicking his tongue against the lobe of Tom’s ear.</p>
<p>“Well, I can’t get anything on my uniform, otherwise I’ll be late, even if you won’t.” </p>
<p>Harry dropped his head back onto the sheets and sighed, before literally grabbing Tom by the jaw. “If only there was a type of sexual activity that could keep you quiet and keep your clothes from getting messy.”</p>
<p>Tom opened his mouth, then closed it.</p>
<p>“Good point,” he managed before shimmying down to get eye-level with some of his most favorite parts of Harry.</p>
<p>Harry let out a huff and a chuckle that turned into a low moan as Tom got to doing some very clever things with his mouth, if he did say so himself. Giving head was a mechanical art, and Tom was an excellent engineer. It wasn’t long before he had Harry panting and grabbing the top of Tom’s head in warning. Tom was trooper though. He “swallowed” through, as it were.</p>
<p>But he didn’t swallow all of it. Harry was sort of a kinky guy sometimes, and Harry loved dragging Tom back up after he sucked Harry off, to play a stickier version of tonsil hockey. Like he did now.</p>
<p>When they finally pulled away from each other, Harry ran his tongue over his teeth. “Have you even sonic-ed your mouth yet?”</p>
<p>“How can you even taste my morning breath after I did all that?” Tom asked disbelievingly as Harry sat up and made to get out of bed.</p>
<p>“You’d be surprised,” Harry said pushing the covers away before Tom pinned one of his hands.</p>
<p>“Hold up, that’s all the sugar I get? I’m feeling a little used here.” Tom made an attempt at his infamous eyebrow crinkle/puppy eyes combo.</p>
<p>Harry wasn’t buying, looked like. “Oh, did you, perhaps, forget we have a date today?”</p>
<p>“Do we?”</p>
<p>“Yes,” Harry bussed the corner of Tom’s pout. “1800 hours, Fair Haven. Remember?” Wrapping his lovely, tanned arms around Tom’s shoulders.</p>
<p>“Ah, yes,” Tom curled one arm absentmindedly around Harry’s bare midriff. “Was, I supposed to, uh, schedule something…related to that…? I mean, I totally did, if I was in charge of it. But just, hypothetically—”</p>
<p>“I scheduled it in.” Harry pressed a long kiss to Tom’s cheek. “1800. I’ll blow you on a grassy Irish knoll. Scandalize the villagers.”</p>
<p>“Scandal, I like that. Scandal,” Tom repeated nonsensically as Harry dropped a hand to the front of Tom’s uniform…and then a little lower.</p>
<p>BEEP BEEP BEEP BEE-</p>
<p>“Computer, turn off chronometer alarm.”</p>
<p>Harry was up and speed-walking into the bathroom for his one-point-five minute sonic shower. “1800!” He hollered through the door. “Nineteenth century Irish villagers! Blowjobs!”</p>
<p>“Blowjobs,” Tom repeated quietly as he gingerly got up, willing his erection to go down sometime in the next twenty minutes as he tried to go about the rest of his morning routine. Date, blowjobs, Harry’s mouth.</p>
<p>Oh, he was doomed.</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>a rare pair near and dear to my heart</p></blockquote></div></div>
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